


The Brightest Sun

by the_delusional_fan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Brief Deadname Gomenasai, Gen, Mild Blood, Surgery, Trans Jeritza, Trans Male Character, Transitioning, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_delusional_fan/pseuds/the_delusional_fan
Summary: Jeritza meeting and pledging his loyalty to Edelgard.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Jeritza von Hrym, Hubert von Vestra & Jeritza von Hrym
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	The Brightest Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Jeritza 3rd Person PoV 
> 
> Really interested in why Jeritza and Death Knight swore such a strong allegiance to Edelgard (outside of being gay goths). His dedication almost rivals Hubert's. So I filled in some stuff the game left out.
> 
> Lowkey a wish fulfillment fic. Watching hysterectomy surgeries on youtube.com is self care.

The light burns his eyes. It feels as though he has awoken from a nightmare. A dream of violence in its purest form now leaking into the waking world. His hands burn. He inspects them and then the floor, suddenly painted red and decorated with corpses. 

The year is 1176. All of House Bartels is dead. 

Emile von Bartels is dead. 

* * *

The sun is setting and his life is ending. Soon to be consumed by Death for the night, before rising again with the new sun. Time has lost its meaning. Though if he bothered, he could probably tell the day by the new coat of blood on his sleeves. He looks at his hands, poorly scrubbed and still slightly damp from last night’s waltz with Death. A voice calls to him.

“You there. I must speak with you.”

The knights have come for him. They need not bother him with verbal courtesies when their purpose, his purpose, is violence. He waits for them to draw their blade. They don’t. 

“Thank you. It has been very difficult to track your whereabouts.”

Perplexed, he turns to the voice. There are no knights, just a girl almost half his size with eyes twice as fierce as his. 

“You are Emily von Bartels correct?”

He and Death cringe at that name.

“My apologies, I had to be certain.” She does not cower under his glare. “I am Edelgard von Hresvelg. Your future emperor.”

Death pulls his lips into a snarl, brandishing his teeth. “...What business do you have with me? Have you come to claim my head to bolster your own?”

Edelgard takes a step forward. “I have come to ask for your aid. Join me if you will.”

It’s a command. And Death abhors it. 

“Why would I ever join you,” Death hisses, “...nobility has no worth.”

She does not pause, and her gaze does not yeild. “I too wish to see this wicked system purged from this land. But I cannot do that without great and terrible power.”

He is burning under her stare. 

“You can cast aside everything that you used to be and start anew.” Edelgard takes another step closer.

“And you may gorge yourself on those fit to die.”

He can hear her heart beat as steadily as her voice.

“Do you accept?”

She is pulling off her glove, reaching out her hand. It is marred with scars no doubt from the horrors this accursed world continues to harbor. He too is reaching out his hand, still smeared with the blood from a body he can’t remember. He does not speak when they join their hands together, but Death does. His grip is iron and absolute. 

“I accept.”

Edelgard speaks when she feels the blood stick to her hands.

“I’m grateful for your allegiance, Jeritza von Hyrm.”

* * *

  
  


Light burns his eyes, his chest, his abdomen. The world and its sounds are spinning. 

_“Another success!”_

_“I told you there was nothing to worry about.”_

_“I can’t help but worry when he’s in the hands of them…”_

_“Hold your tongue and be grateful for this boon.”_

Jeritza raises his hand to his chest and finds his pulse with his hand laying flat.

_“The scarring as you know is permanent,_ but the modifications are too. There is no spellwork here.”

_Solon?_

It is called “surgery” if he remembers correctly. But it's hard to focus when he is sick with both motion and joy.

“ _Now, now._ Don’t get too excited. Just because your womb is gone doesn’t mean you shou–"

“Quiet!”

_Edelgard and… Hubert._

“I don’t know how with it you are, but I apologize for his words regardless.” Edelgard pats Jeritza’s shoulder.

“I’m providing good advice. There is nothing to apologize for.” Hubert seems to almost manifest from her shadow. “Now if you would let me finish..”

He is still too nauseous to deal with this living nightmare. Jeritza weakly raises the hand on his chest to give a middle finger to Hubert. Edelgard sighs as Hubert gives two back. 

* * *

  
  
  


“My apologies Lady Edelgard. This is ridiculous.” 

Hubert barely conceals his disgust while he stares at the paper before him in disbelief. “I understand your need for privacy. And I respect your capabilities as an artist…” He looks at the paper over and over as if it is one of Ferdinand’s long winded declarations of eternal rivalry to Her Highness. “But this is too much.”

“I think it looks fine...” Jeritza interjects, not bothering to hide his amusement. 

“That’s two for and one against. The decision is final.” Edelgard smirks as she waves the paper, sincerely smug in her rigged game. 

“You know this isn’t fair in the slightest.” Hubert is pleading. But Edelgard shows no mercy.  
  


“Send my regards to the blacksmith.” She hands him the paper. 

Hubert is forced to look at the horrid, yet beautifully rendered armor designs up close. A porcelain mask, covered in flame, with a feathered piece nearly the size of Her Highness that matches the feathers protruding from the dark armor and drapes, which are also adorned with trims of red. And the other, even more offensive to his aesthetic sensibilities with its jet black armor, horned skull helmet, massive shoulder spikes, gauntlet spikes, tasset spikes, and thigh high boots with _spurs_. Both were respectively, plainly, and horribly titled–“Flame Emperor” and “Death Knight”.

“Can we talk this over, please?” Hubert is begging. Edelgard does not yeild.

“No.” Jeritza speaks on her behalf.

I wasn’t asking the likes of _you_ ,” Hubert hisses, unleashing the full breadth of his distress.

Edelgard gives him her look. The one Hubert cannot resist.  
  


“...very well, Your Highness.” Hubert folds the paper neatly, but begrudgingly before taking a deep bow and warping off in a large plume smoke. It seems to linger around longer than usual.

Jeritza sighs. “For someone so critical of our presentation... he certainly fails to see how...,” he raises the pitch in his voice to match Hubert’s, “ _ridiculous_ his own is.”

Edelgard laughs. It’s brief but it’s hardy. Jeritza is almost too caught up in how good it feels to now have a voice deeper than Hubert’s to notice her snort. It makes him laugh too. He hasn’t done that in so long. Death is quiet and his heart is burning with a long forgotten feeling of ...happiness.

He vows to burn the whole world down with her. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "The goddess knew I was a bottom so she gave me two holes."  
> -Jeritza Fire Emblem


End file.
